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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013253">my heart went 'boom'</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/poindextears/pseuds/sincerelyreidburke'>sincerelyreidburke (poindextears)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kiersey College OC-Verse [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kiersey College (Webseries), Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>"Could a broke college student do THIS?" - sebastián hernandez, Anniversary, Ben Shaley's Taxi Service, College, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, DInner and a show, Dating, Deaf Character, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hamilton References, Kiersey College, Like, M/M, Nando thinks the hamilton soundtrack slaps because he is a man of culture, Quinn Cooper Getting Nice Things, Sort Of, Surprises, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Well like they've BEEN dating, gratuitous fluff, it's not mature at all don't worry, t for vaguely suggestive references</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:13:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/poindextears/pseuds/sincerelyreidburke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wait, you’ve never seen a musical in person?”<br/>“Well…” Quinn hesitates, still sheepish, and then shakes his head. “School productions are the closest I’ve gotten. Tickets are, uh— well, they’re rather expensive.”</p><p>Nando buys the tickets at the end of August, but the plan has existed for months by then.</p><p>Or: Nando takes Quinn to a show for their anniversary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>OMC/OMC, Sebastián "Nando" Hernandez/Quinn Cooper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kiersey College OC-Verse [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Kiersey College</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>my heart went 'boom'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Me yesterday on Tumblr: small tag ramble about Nando buying Hamilton tickets<br/>Brenna in the replies: HE TAKES HIM TO SEE HAMILTON???<br/>Me: WELP I guess I'm writing this now<br/>Me today: this fic<br/>For those who do not know these characters, they're my OCs! :D Nando and Quinn are students at Kiersey College, a fictional school of my creation. The other fics in this series will tell other parts of their story. <a href="https://sincerelyreidburke.tumblr.com/kiersey-college">This is the page on my tumblr where you can learn more about them!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>sophomore year</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>november 10th, 2018</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nando buys the tickets at the end of August, but the plan has existed for months by then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It starts so early, it’s not even a plan. At the time the idea plants its seed in his mind, it’s more like catalogued information that he knows could be useful at some point. It’s his first date with Quinn after they’ve officially become boyfriends, on a chilly November morning walking hand-in-hand back to campus from the little restaurant where they got breakfast downtown. Right after their food arrived, Nando got him talking about theatre, and he’s still going, and Nando never wants to stop listening to him talk about the things he loves. He never wants to stop listening to him talk, </span>
  <em>
    <span>period</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn mentions the information offhandedly. “I’ve watched a lot of bootlegs,” he remarks, with a sheepish little smile, “where I can find them, on YouTube. They’re not legal, but it’s the closest I can get to seeing a professional show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ohh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” It takes Nando a second to understand, and when it clicks, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels like relevant boyfriend information for the future. “Wait, you’ve never seen a musical in person?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” Quinn hesitates, still sheepish, and then shakes his head. “School productions are the closest I’ve gotten. Tickets are, uh— well, they’re rather expensive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I can imagine, yeah,” Nando replies, and then squeezes his hand and says, “I’m sorry, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, goodness, don’t be sorry.” Quinn adjusts his scarf with his free hand. It’s Kiersey blue today, and as almost all of his scarves are, it’s also homemade. He looks so fucking cute in it that Nando might combust. “Theatre is an expensive hobby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando laughs into the overcast, snow-heavy sky. “I feel you there; so is hockey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so he stores that information, in the back of his mind, lets it serve as an idea for a big occasion between them when one arises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds it an entire year later, in their first anniversary. But to plan an occasion like that, you have to think about it before the anniversary actually comes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he does some research, well in advance, aided by Quinn’s friend Maggie from the drama club, who really does not have to help him but whose help he’s nonetheless grateful for. In an Instagram DM conversation over the summer, Maggie explains different opportunities to see shows to him— community productions, small theatre companies, and big national tours. Nando glances at the schedule of shows coming to Boston this fall, and finds </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hamilton</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the mix around the time of their anniversary, which— okay, he definitely knows this one. It has hip-hop music and its cast is full of actors of color. He’s seen it come up in non-theatre-specific pop culture, and he’s pretty sure it’s becoming some kind of national phenomenon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives the soundtrack a listen, because, as the boyfriend of a theatre major, he does these things now, and it… </span>
  <em>
    <span>slaps</span>
  </em>
  <span>, actually. He doesn’t realize he’s mumbling lyrics under his breath at work one sweaty shift in July until Raf squints at him from the grill next over and goes, “Dude, what are you singing over there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oops.” He laughs. “My bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So not only is the music good, but also, he has </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard some of it before, and it’s definitely because at least a few of these songs are on Quinn’s playlists. Which is a good sign. Because it means Quinn likes the show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All summer, he saves his tip money. The tickets, yes, are going to be expensive— the website for the venue in Boston tells him as much. But they’re not, like, plane tickets. They’re pretty much the same price as, like, good seats at a Yotes game. And this is Quinn’s NHL arena.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he waits. He saves. He works all three summer months at home and puts money aside. When August arrives, he sits down at his computer, goes online, and secures the bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their anniversary is November 10th. This year, it falls on a Saturday. That Saturday also happens to be the occasion of a matineé home game, which will leave him plenty of time to shower and change and high-tail it to Boston for a 7:30 show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks it’s fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tickets come in the mail, to his school address; they’re waiting for him when he arrives for preseason and moves into his new room at the house on Beech Street. They’re real tickets, too, not the print-online kind of thing, and he likes the way they look a lot. He tucks them into the deep recesses of his bottom desk drawer, under his books for class, and the school year begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s late October, an unusually warm day for the time of year, when he brings the general concept up to Quinn. They’re sitting on the main quad in a patch of mellow sun; Quinn is reading for a class, and Nando has his arm tossed around him, soaking up the rays and watching foliage tornado up in the breeze. He noses into Quinn’s hair and kisses his temple, and Quinn presses his lips into a smile, tipping his head toward him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando tickles his elbow, and Quinn lets out a soft laugh. He looks up at him, all that autumn light brightening his pretty eyes, and Nando motions gently to his ear. Quinn takes the signal, and turns on his hearing aids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby,” Nando murmurs, pulling him closer with the arm he has around him. “I was thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Quinn raises his eyebrows, a little mischief dancing in his eyes, like he’s going to chirp. “A momentous occasion, to be sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando laughs, and Quinn giggles, and he presses another kiss to the side of his freckly face. “Our anniversary’s coming up,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Quinn hums, tilting his strawberry head against the shoulder of Nando’s Kiersey Hockey sweatshirt. “I suppose it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go to dinner,” he adds. “A nice dinner. In Boston.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In Boston!” Quinn echoes, in a full (probably unintentional) demonstration of his skill at vocal projection. “Oh, Sebastián, you must be trying to charm me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious!” He jostles him a little, and can’t stop grinning like an idiot. “We can get all dressed up. We’ll take the train. I have a matty game that day, so it can even be the night of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My goodness.” Quinn puts a hand to his heart. “All dressed up and everything. Are you sure, dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have literally never been more sure.” Nando kisses his forehead. “It’ll be fun. We’ll eat good food. You’ll look super fucking cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn bats his eyelashes a little. “You’re objectifying me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando holds him by the waist to kiss him properly, and Quinn laughs against his mouth. “Sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cariño</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says. “You’re just too Goddamn gorgeous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn swats his chest, a gentle, soft gesture Nando is well used to. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sebastián</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From there, it’s planning— he scopes out times for the train, makes a reservation at a restaurant within walking distance from the theater, gets Ben to drive them to the train station. When the day arrives, he wakes in Quinn’s room and spends the morning in his bed, plays in the game they wind up winning three to two, and lets Quinn dress him before they go to meet Ben.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wears a tie Quinn made for him, one of several he gave him as an anniversary gift— earlier, while they were spending the lazy morning together, Quinn pulled a neatly wrapped box out of his dresser drawer and said, “This… is your gift; I think you should open it now. Since you have a game, and we’re going to dinner, and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside was this gorgeous assortment of homemade ties, a hand-sewn apron for him to use in the Beech Street kitchen, a new knit cap in Kiersey blue and gold. Trust Quinn to put so much love, time, and care into a gift; Nando isn’t sure he’s gotten so emotional over an apron before this morning. Now, getting ready for the show (or for dinner, as far as Quinn knows) in Quinn’s room, he sits on the bed and lets Quinn do up his tie. It’s maroon, with a faint paisley pattern. Quinn hums approvingly as he rests in his lap, tying the tie; Nando holds him by his narrow little hips. “Red is most certainly your color, honey,” Quinn remarks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando grins and presses a kiss to his freckly cheek. “It’s a good thing I have you to dress me.” Quinn’s smile is so fucking cute and self-satsified that Nando thinks he might combust. One year with this boy, and he wants every single year to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’re nearly done getting ready, Quinn pulls out a pair of black socks, and Nando groans. The look on Quinn’s face can only mean one thing. He tries to protest. “Baby,” he says. “I’ll sweat—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sebastián.” Quinn’s voice is even, and he hands them to him. “Socks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando hates socks, but for Quinn, he’s been wearing them more and more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben has his Prius on campus this semester, unlike last year, and they meet him at Beech Street, where he’s usually parked. He’s leaning against his driver’s side door, texting, when they get there, and he slides his phone into his sweatpants’ pocket on their approach. “Well, aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> two looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>dapper</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he cries, with this huge grin, and Nando laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for agreeing to drive us, dude,” he tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I say no?” Ben says. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> see my favorite lovebirds off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn laughs, his hand wrapped around Nando’s elbow, and remarks, “We’re only going to dinner for a night, Ben, not leaving for a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still.” Ben sort of has the energy of a white mom on prom night, and Nando is living for it. “Here, stay there for a second. I have to get your picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn presses his face into Nando’s jacket to laugh, as Ben pulls his phone back out. “I have to send this to the boys,” Ben is saying, and then he traces a finger down his cheek like it’s a tear. “They grow up so fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando grins for Ben’s camera, and then gets in the backseat of the Prius with Quinn. “Wow, it really must be a special day,” Ben remarks, as he swings down into the driver’s seat and starts the car. “You’re not even calling shotgun, Nanny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tosses his arm around Quinn’s shoulders after they buckle in. “I’m treating you as my personal cab service,” he chirps, and Ben laughs loud and clear as he throws the car in reverse, and Quinn giggles into his shoulder and goes, “Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sebastián,” and Nando somehow just knows it’s going to be a fantastic night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tickets are in his pocket— the right-side pocket of his dark gray slacks, where he’s confident Quinn won’t spontaneously go looking. Quinn tends to stand on the left side of him, but also he just doesn’t super reach into his pockets at random. In the car on the very quick drive to the train station, Quinn keeps steady conversation with Ben— who is still totally acting like a mom, especially given Nando notices he put the picture he took of them up on his Snapchat story (</span>
  <em>
    <span>lovebirds off for their anniversary!!!</span>
  </em>
  <span>). They get there in no time at all, and Ben sends them off with a wink, a wave, and a smirk. “I’ll be here to pick you up!” he calls. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the ride, dude,” he says, on his way past Ben, who fist-bumps him and arches an eyebrow. He says no words, thanks to Quinn being in earshot— well— Quinn being </span>
  <em>
    <span>in earshot</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a sort of relative thing, because he has to be looking at and paying attention to you to hear you say something in a voice lower than a casual volume, but Ben is careful anyway, just in case. “Have fun, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando grins. He can’t help it. He is so freaking excited. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train ride to Boston is about an hour. Nando has been to Boston before, but never exactly ‘just for fun’— they play a few schools in the city, so roadies here are typical, and Nando always flies into Logan Airport traveling to and from breaks. He doesn’t know the city well, but he trusts the maps app on his phone, and also trust Ben’s assurance that it’s a really easy city to get around in. Phoenix is easy enough— maybe because he grew up twenty minutes from downtown, but even so, easy enough, and Boston is half its size, so this shouldn’t be hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoped out a restaurant at a good walking distance from the theater, but not so close that it would be obvious. He has a plan, and it’s all set up. All that’s left is to put it into action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodness, Sebastián,” Quinn murmurs, inside the restaurant as Nando pulls out his chair, “this is so nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins at him, and winks when Quinn has sat down. “I thought only the best for my baby, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s cheeks flush as he smiles. Quinn all pink in the face is one of the certified cutest things Nando has ever seen, will ever see. “I mean it,” he says, gently, as Nando takes his own seat across from him. “What a lovely little restaurant. You’ve outdone yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando thrills, grabbing Quinn’s hand across the table to give it a good squeeze. “It’s a special day, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mi amor</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He really does like having a host of bilingual pet names at his disposal, but his favorite part about it isn’t even the pet names themselves. It’s watching Quinn swoon when he uses them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That it is,” Quinn hums, and goes to take a sip from his fancy water glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he wants to say, but can’t yet, is that Quinn really hasn’t seen anything yet, that he has no idea what the night has in store for him. He feels like the sheer adrenaline of knowing what lies ahead of them tonight, how he gets to reveal the surprise to Quinn— it has him </span>
  <em>
    <span>buzzing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s so ready. This plan has been in the works for so long, and it’s nearly fully executed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But first— he looks down at the menu. First, he’s going to eat a really good, really fancy meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they order. They talk. More than once, Nando has to shake himself out a little, to keep himself from spacing out just watching Quinn across the table. If he stares too long, he’ll lose focus on what he’s actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking</span>
  </em>
  <span> about and just get caught up in how he looks, and Quinn likes to chirp him when that happens. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You weren’t even listening at all, were you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’ll smile, like the head-over-heels dumbass that he is, and put his cheek in his hand, and go, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just repeat that last part, baby?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, Quinn is— he’s a fucking gift from God, but then again, Quinn has been that since the first time Nando laid eyes upon him, so it’s not like that’s anything new. Maybe it’s just the occasion of the night, not even the looming surprise but the fact that they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in the city, one whole year together and celebrating it the way it deserves to be celebrated. Quinn, Nando knows and knew from the start, will never miss an opportunity to dress up— and many times at dinner, he gets lost in the way he looks, from the little swoop in his hair to the pinstriped bowtie that matches his pocket square to the way his blue suit jacket is perfectly tailored to his person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets distracted by other stuff, too, like when Quinn gets up to use the restroom and Nando watches him go and can’t help but notice how nice those blue pants fit his backside, but— okay, well, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn is going to be the death of him. In the very best way possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When dinner comes to an end, he’s bouncing his foot under the table. Quinn can’t see from where he sits across from him, which is a good thing, because it’s a telltale sign of his excitement, and to this point, he considers himself to have done a pretty damn good job of keeping this secret under wraps. When they get up from the table, he offers Quinn his arm, and Quinn winds his hand in it like they’re pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. They always have been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was… just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>lovely, Sebastián,” Quinn is saying, as they step out into the cool city evening. “I can’t begin to thank you enough. You know we could have split the—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah— no way, baby.” Nando shakes his head. “I planned on that; you don’t have to worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn smiles, gently, and rises on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.” Nando kisses him properly, then surveys the scene. He knows they’ll have to turn left and walk a little to get to the theatre district. He turns them that way, as casual as he can, and says, “We’ve got a little ‘til our train. Wanna walk around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love that.” Quinn falls into step easily next to him, and lets out this exhilarated little sigh. “It’s a very nice evening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true that it’s clear-skied and not windy, but as for the temperature… </span>
  <em>
    <span>very nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a stretch. Nando grins down at him. “I think that’s your northerner talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it has to be forty or so,” Quinn wagers. “And for November… it could be worse, is what I’m saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve gotta get you to my homeland,” he tells him. “Forty degrees is like an ice age in Arizona.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to visit your ‘homeland,’” Quinn laughs. “Although I think when I do, I’ll step off the plane and sunburn in about two minutes flat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not if. When. Quinn’s terminology gives Nando butterflies in his stomach. “That’s okay, baby. We have an aloe plant in the backyard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well in that case.” Quinn squeezes the top of his arm. “I’ll just come home with you for Christmas, and that’ll be that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s perfect.” It’s a fantasy that would be nice to get lost in. “Gabi and Rosa will be pumped to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” He seems to remember something all of a sudden, as they walk along. “Did Gabriella have her Christmas pageant audition yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Audition</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a funny way to refer to the sign-ups and assigning of parts at their church’s nativity play, but the last time he had Quinn on a FaceTime call with the twins, last weekend, Quinn asked Gabi if she had any shows coming up, and Gabi went on a Christmas tangent. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hope I get to be Mother Mary</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Gabi told Quinn. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s like the star of the show!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to her on the screen, Rosa had rolled her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Baby Jesus is the star of the show, Gabi.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think they sign up tomorrow.” San Felipe Parish in Tempe takes the nativity play so seriously that they start having kids practice before Thanksgiving. Nando had a brush with fame when he, Raf, and Toni got to be the three wise men in the fifth grade. It was a very big deal. “I’m sure Gabi will give me the report,” he says to Quinn, “cause she’ll want you to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn smiles. “I think it’s so sweet that she loves performing. It really is touching when she tells me about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that Gabi sends all her acting information to Quinn through Nando is entirely Nando’s fault. He showed Gabi and Rosa a clip of Quinn in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Evan Hansen</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he got home over the summer, and both of them, but especially Gabi, were enchanted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sebastián, your boyfriend sings like a PRINCE!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He really can’t wait for the day when his sisters finally get to meet Quinn. And Mama. And the rest of his family. He isn’t sure yet, logistically, when exactly that will be— but he knows it’ll happen one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stroll down the city sidewalk; it’s busy out, even in the cold, probably because it’s a Saturday night, and it just gets busier as they near the theatre district, a surefire sign that people are congregating for the show. Nando feels like he’s walking a little fast, in his excitement, and has to keep reminding himself to slow down, that Quinn’s legs are shorter, that he can’t give himself away with a stupid little body language sign after all this time of keeping the secret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time do we have to be back at North Station?” Quinn asks, his fingers rubbing gently at the inside of Nando’s bicep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To say what he knows— that the train leaves at 10:30— would be a dead giveaway. Nando keeps it vague. “We’ve got time, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looks like Quinn might question further, which, okay, he can’t blame him, because Quinn is a micromanager who would definitely not want to miss the train— and he’s trying to figure out how he would dodge that questioning when the city streets of Boston distract Quinn for him. Because as they round the next sidewalk corner, boom— they’re in the heart of the theatre district, and Quinn is enchanted, and Nando doesn’t have to cover up any more train questioning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my goodness,” Quinn whispers, staring ahead at all the signs and blinking lights. “Look at </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, honey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yeah, he’s right— it’s definitely worth marveling at. But for the moment, as Quinn takes in the sight of the street that’s so alive, Nando can’t really look at anything but the boy holding onto his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’s in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think—” Quinn nods steadily, as they walk toward their secret destination. “Yes! This must be the theatre district.” He pauses a second, and adds, with a half-smile up at him, “Did you walk me this way on purpose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando shrugs, and maintains a shocking amount of cool given he can now see the front of the theater they’re headed to, way up ahead on the sidewalk. “Maybe so,” he replies. “I thought you might like to see it while we were downtown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” Quinn replies, like he’s soaking it in. “You really </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to woo me tonight, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just lucky,” he says. “I mean, I’ve spent an entire </span>
  <em>
    <span>year</span>
  </em>
  <span> with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s eyes are shining, in all the reflected light. “Well, I’d like many more of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando reaches across himself for Quinn’s hand and squeezes tight. “Me, too, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t say enough how easily he sees forever in Quinn’s smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can see it more easily now— the marquee, is it called, on the front of the theater they’re headed to? It has the logo for the show on it, and there are people congregating under it, lining up to go inside. Quinn must see it at the same time he does, because he perks up a little the same way he always does before he goes off into some cute little rambling tangent. “Oh!” he says. “I think I knew that this tour was here right now! I follow one of the actors on Instagram.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hamilton</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Nando tries to sound as clueless but interested as possible, as they walk along. “Do you like the show?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, gosh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> it— of course I do; it’s hard not to,” Quinn explains, and he looks just the same way he does right before he’s about to go on and on about some Broadway production that he loves, and all Nando can think is </span>
  <em>
    <span>jackpot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “It’s something of a cultural masterpiece in the theatre community right now. Do you know what it’s about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is the part where Nando pretends like he has not listened to the whole soundtrack while driving to and from work in his truck. “The… founding of America, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of, yes,” Quinn says, with a nod, and that’s when he goes on the forecasted little tangent, and Nando is pretty sure this could not be going more perfectly. That’s how he closes the distance between them and the theater— with Quinn in his ear, going on about </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s a hip-hop biography</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>the music is so fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, you must have heard of the creator of the show, even if you don’t know it, sweetheart— he did the soundtrack for </span>
  </em>
  <span>Moana</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love how the show is so modern while it tells such an old story</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the timing could not be better when Quinn takes a pause just as they reach the edge of the line outside the theater’s gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like this is the line,” Nando remarks, trying so hard (and succeeding, he thinks) to sound chill about it. He tips his head toward said line and says, to Quinn, “We should get in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh— Sebastián,” Quinn replies, with a shake of his head, “it must’ve sold out months ago, honey. You have to enter a lottery, and it’s this whole process, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, baby, like,” he interrupts, grinning just a little and gesturing toward the end of the line a few feet away. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get in line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn, who is an entire genius, still definitely doesn’t understand, and Nando is absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>tweaking</span>
  </em>
  <span> to pull out these tickets and show him, and Quinn gives him the absolute perfect setup when he says, “But my love, you’re not understanding— there’s no way either of us could afford tickets even if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> available.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boom. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Perfect. “Oh… really?” Nando reaches into his pocket, grabs the tickets, and pulls them out to show Quinn in maybe his smoothest move to date. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn takes in the sight. His eyes widen, and then— because he is, at heart, the most dramatic person Nando knows— he full-on gasps and jumps off of his arm. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, you didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando flashes a cheeky grin. “Happy anniversary, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a flat second, Quinn is fully speechless. And Nando knows from experience that he is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> difficult man to rob of words, so that sight in itself is cause for pride, as they stand there on the sidewalk. Then Quinn’s hands do a little dance, and he speaks again, “You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did, actually,” Nando tells him, and that’s enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sebastián</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he cries, half-laughing as he holds a hand to his mouth, “oh, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodness</span>
  </em>
  <span>, honey—” His speech gets a little less coherent as he steps back into him, and Nando hands him the tickets to see for himself and winds an arm around his waist. Quinn is laughing and also sort of crying into his shoulder, and he slides into his embrace for a long, tight, hug. Nando can feel him sort of shaking a little, those excited sort of shakes that are not only wholesome but also extremely adorable, and he kisses the top of his head as they fall into an actual spot in line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe—” Quinn shakes his head, still holding onto him. “I didn’t— how long have you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a plan many months in the making,” he hums, and Quinn laughs again, wiping at the edge of his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re— oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodness</span>
  </em>
  <span>— I’m so—” Nando is pretty sure this is the least able to speak that he’s ever heard Quinn outside of, like, bed. And he is living for every fucking second of it. His face is all warm, and there’s pride in his chest, and… yeah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Quinn is saying, pressed so close to his side, the most handsome, perfect thing in the entire world, as they step over the threshold and through the theater’s gate. “I love you </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This literally could not have gone </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn is in the same general state of shocked, excited disbelief while they walk around inside the theater, which, by the way, is maybe the most ornate building Nando has ever been inside in his life. They find their seats— decent, honestly, for the price, with a good view of the stage, and Quinn is literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>bouncing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the way Nando felt like he was going to in the restaurant prior to the big reveal. “This is— it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span> in here,” Quinn marvels, in a low voice against the murmur of the assembling audience. “I have absolutely never seen anything like it; have you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no, not at all,” he replies. As he takes in the sight of this huge chandelier hanging from the gold-laced ceiling, he feels Quinn wind his arm back up into his, and he reaches across the arm rest between their chairs to take his free hand. “It’s amazing,” he adds, as he looks down to meet Quinn’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn does the bouncing thing again, and surveys the seats around them before he leans fully into Nando’s chest and laughs into his shoulder. “I cannot believe we’re in here right now,” he breathes. “I cannot believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sebastián. You’ve— you’ve absolutely outdone yourself; I’m—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’ve never seen a show before,” Nando says, and Quinn lifts his head to meet his eyes. “I really wanted to be the one who was there when you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Quinn takes a deep breath, and even with his huge smile, looks like he’s fighting back tears. He nods steadily, and says, “I couldn’t think of anyone else in the world I’d rather be here with right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando squeezes his hand, and then gives him a gentle, quick kiss. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kiss him a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but they’re in a very public place, and he figures that can wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn hasn’t gotten over it even when the lights go down. He clutches really tight at Nando’s hand and tips onto his shoulder, for a good squeeze, before they relax into a comfy and intertwined position and the overture begins. For Nando, too, this is a first— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Evan Hansen</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Kiersey last year was his first actual show (if you don’t count the San Felipe nativity play), and even though it was amazing beyond words, he guesses this is different, because it’s not a production from a school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that no one but Quinn will ever be his favorite actor, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hamilton</span>
  </em>
  <span> winds up to be an absolute fucking blast anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music is just as good in person, and where he knows some of the more memorable rapping parts, Quinn taps his hand in time with a lot of the singing, maybe an absentminded thing but a very cute thing nonetheless. He tries not to let himself devolve into </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> many daydreams when Quinn lifts and kisses his hand during the wedding song. It’s a fantastic show, start to finish, and he kind of sheds a few tears in the finale because Eliza deserved better but don’t tell anyone— well, okay, Quinn definitely sees, and Quinn is also kind of misty-eyed, but that’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because when the curtain goes down, and they’re on their feet applauding, Quinn grabs his hand in the noise of the crowd and goes, “That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathtaking</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” and Nando knows in the adoring smile on that boy’s face that he’s done exactly what he wanted to do tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses him for good measure. If it’s a lot of PDA, then other people can deal. It’s their anniversary. He is soft. He loves his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been the greatest night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn talks about the show the whole walk back to the train station, and by the time they’re in their seats and headed back up to Kiersey, he’s made the transition into sleepy boyfriend. He shuts his hearing aids off and dozes on his shoulder, and Nando would be slightly sleeping too, if it weren’t for his worry that they’ll miss their stop if they both rest their eyes. So he waits for the train worker to call out, “Kiersey?” at the front, and nudges Quinn gently, then leads him by the hand off the train and all the way to Ben’s waiting car in the parking lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben is in a KMH sweatshirt, Vans, and pajama pants, which makes Nando laugh. His best friend is living his best life. “Well?” he asks, when they get into the backseat. “What was the verdict?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando watches Quinn reach for his hearing aids to turn them back on, then he clears his throat and says, “Could you repeat that, Ben?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben laughs. “Yeah, sure thing, Mini. I asked what the verdict was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, goodness, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>verdict</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Quinn replies, “is that I am the luckiest boy in the whole entire world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like,” Ben says, as he puts the Prius in reverse, “that should be a fine somehow.” He turns to look out the back window, and in the process, winks at the both of them. “But since it’s your anniversary, I’ll let you off the hook.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando grins at him and pulls Quinn close to his chest. “Thanks, Rho.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re in Quinn’s bed, fancy clothes discarded for the night and pressed close together under the covers, when Quinn rolls to him and takes his face in his hands. They already said goodnight, and fell under the covers with some sleepy kisses but not much else; Quinn is tuned out for the night, so it comes as a surprise when he speaks. His voice, as it always is those rare times he speaks without his hearing aids in, is very soft and super fucking cute. “I love you so much,” he whispers, and then gives him a gentle kiss in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nando knows it’s dark, but maybe, if Quinn can feel him moving, he’ll understand a sign— he’s just going to go for it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he signs, and Quinn laughs. He nods and rolls on top of him, which is a surefire sign he’s getting into sleep mode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Nando falls asleep, with Quinn resting so warm and comfy on top of him, he’s rubbing slow circles on the small of Quinn’s bare, smooth back. He has at least four songs stuck in his head simultaneously, and he hasn’t had a better night than this in… he doesn’t even know how long. He is going to love the boy in his arms for the rest of his days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he shuts his eyes, and dozes off, and this is how their second year begins.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! <a href="https://sincerelyreidburke.tumblr.com/">Come hang out</a> on Tumblr! Please feel free to shout at me! I'm not sorry at all for how freaking fluffy this was. And thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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